Even lackadaisical Jeremy never fought the idea that twice-a-year dental visits, once-a-year bloodwork and physicals, and a daily multivitamin Mike had pressed on hm were part of the flow of a life of self-worth.
Baking soda it was.
As she flossed, she swayed in place, body moving just enough to keep her mind from racing. Most mornings, flossing was something she did quickly, her teeth an assembly line that needed to be cleared out in even spacings, then the toothbrush there like a mint-flavored street sweeper.
Now? She took her time.
Baking soda tasted awful, and it was so abrasive. Her teeth felt like she'd polished them with metal gel. A twinge in her bladder made her look at the new pregnancy test.
“Should I wait?” she muttered to herself, wishing she'd peed in a cup and simply used that to retest. How was she supposed to know there was a protocol for this?
Next time, she'd remember.
Next time.
Yet again, she performed the deed, setting her clock, wondering if she'd made an error.
An accident started this whole process. It wasn't out of the range of possibility that she had erred, too.
Two pregnancy tests had made sense for her original plan as well, when there had been a hope of positive results. She had two foil-wrapped boxes, perfect for sliding the thin tests into.
Positive for Jeremy.
Positive for Mike.
The negative – that she hadn't planned for.
Time ticked by like she'd done something wrong, each second a punishment, some shaming she didn't deserve. Who gets pregnant randomly from a condom failure like this? Sure, women did.
But not all.
And as the timer dinged and Lydia stared at Not Pregnant again, she let out a long huff of breath.
Apparently, not her, either.
With more composure than she knew she had, Lydia left the bathroom, both sticks in hand, and found the boxes for the morning gifts. Sliding each test into a box, she closed them, fluffed the red ribbons on top, and walked into the living room.
Jeremy greeted her with a smile and a piping hot mocha in a mug for her. She set the boxes on the coffee table in front of them, Mike coming to her right.
Gold for Jeremy, silver for Mike.
“Does the box match my hair?” Mike joked, running a hand through his, grinning at her with more emotion and – was he nervous? – than he normally showed in his face.
“If it does, I need a dye job,” Jeremy said drolly.
“What's the verdict?” Mike asked softly, touching her knee as she sipped, grateful for the warm drink.
“See for yourself.”
Her words made them both lean forward in unison, pick up the boxes, then look at each other. Twin nods made her smile, and then they opened the boxes.
Their faces fell.
Fell.
“Oh,” Mike said, throat moving as he swallowed hard. “Oh.”
“Right,” Jeremy said, blinking rapidly, face twisting with contemplation. “Not Pregnant.”
“Not,” she confirmed, touching her belly. “Let the PMS begin.”
Jeremy groaned. “I never even thought of that, Mike! If we get her pregnant, no dealing with the monthly ice cream run.”
“Are you kidding?” Mike countered. “It'll be a daily ice cream run. Pregnant women are worse.”
She knew the banter covered for their true feelings. Watching their disappointment planted a seed in her.
Not their literal seed.
But an emotional one.
Bzzzz.
“Who left their phone on?” Mike demanded, glaring at Jeremy.
“Don't blame me! I let the battery die on mine and haven't seen it for two days.”
“It was me,” Lydia confessed. “Sorry.”
Bzzzz.
“I have to get it!” she moaned. “Krysta said she'd text me this morning. She's staying in Boston but coming here for New Year's.” Pushing up from the couch, she crossed the room in her footie pajamas, loving the feel of her covered feet as they slid along the wide pine floors.
The text was simple.
But oh, so sweet.
Am I an auntie? Krysta asked, with little praying hands emojis following.
Not Pregnant, Lydia typed back, then added a frownie face.
I'm sorry, Krysta replied. You okay?
Yes. Wistful, mostly. How about you?
Krysta's next text made Lydia whoop with joy.
“Caleb finally made his move,” Lydia read aloud, leading to raucous cheers from Jeremy and Mike.
“GO CALEB!”
“ABOUT TIME!”
That's awesome! Lydia texted back, adding every smiling emoji she could possibly fit in.
What do I do about Zach? Krysta asked with a frown.
Why not have both? Lydia replied, earning an immediate tongue-poking-out emoji from Krysta.
Did you say yes to Caleb? Lydia texted quickly.
It was hard to say anything, Krysta replied.
Huh?
He just walked up to me and kissed me out of the blue, Krysta typed. The response made Lydia's heart race.
Who knew her little brother could be so romantic?
“He didn't ask her out,” Lydia said, breathless.
Jeremy and Mike paused. “What?”
“He just walked up to her and kissed her!” Hand fluttering to her heart, she pressed her palm against it and sighed sentimentally. “That is so sweet!”
“Smart guy,” Mike said, moving to the kitchen to pour a fresh mug of coffee. “Bold move.”
Lydia looked at him, her heart torn in so many directions. Happy she wasn't pregnant.
Sad she wasn't, too.
Memories of how Mike made his move, and Jeremy, too, flooded her, the rush of emotion almost too much.
Almost.
Congratulations. I want to hear all the juicy details! Let's talk tonight, she texted Krysta.
Sounds good. I'll call you from Jeddy's.
Jeddy's?
I'm working with Caleb tonight. The free Christmas Dinner program.
Lydia didn't know her face could stretch this much from smiling.
I love you, she texted her bestie. And I'm so, so happy for you and Caleb.
A heart was all she got in response.
Turning to Jeremy and Mike, she found them in front of the tree, the fire blazing in the old wood stove. Domestic bliss filled her with a warmth no burning wood could ever generate. Add in Christmas and the coziness of the season, and she was in heaven.
There was really only one more thing that could make her life more perfect.
Bzzz.
“NOT MINE!” Lydia said, holding up her silent phone.
Mike looked across the room, his face going to a guilty grimace. “It's me.” Crossing the room, he looked at his phone, the most extraordinary expression of joy coming over him.
Was he – was he about to cry?
“What's up?” Jeremy asked him as he came back to the couch, eyes pinned to the phone.
“Sandy.”
“Mom? We're going over there soon. Does she need something? Why wouldn't she text me?” Lydia wondered aloud, instantly curious and slightly worried.
“Because this isn't about Christmas dinner. It's about Ruth, Khalil, and Harriet.”
“Oh! Is everything okay?” Mike had told her all about the adorable little boy’s sad story.
“Harriet was discharged late last night. She's home for Christmas.”